


Like Sherlock fanfiction wrote

by Straj



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straj/pseuds/Straj
Summary: After the "Cause and effect" Sherlock has fulfilled his dream and wrote a fanfic. He liked it, but Sherlock was involved...





	

Sherlock wrote a fanfic.  
It was a very cheerful fluffy fanfic about him and his friends, John and Mick.

There was no sex, juicy kissing, sharing baths, rough bawdy jokes.  
The fanfic was warm, airy and very lyrical, despite the fact that it was written rather dry language of a person, based solely on the detective work.

Sherlock all properly drawn up, signed up for Archive of Our Own under the name the "Skull" and laid out.

The first message was, to put it mildly, not very decent.  
"Stringeol" asked — "what the Fuck this author puts such a disgusting thing Sherlock doesn't fuck John, and John's not trying to fuck Sherlock?"  
What Sherlock wrote that he sees, and sex between these characters is impossible, because they're just friends...

Sparked a pretty fierce debate. During the literary dispute increased darkness readers. The fanfic received eight likes and adding to the collection.  
Readers, critics, fault-finders, the local trolls so thoroughly bogged down in this discussion that in the end just forgot about the author. If the first experience of Sherlock in the literary field took only two and a half page argument on it lasted for eighteen.

In the end, all came to the conclusion that the so-called friends of the Sherlock — just impotent straight people, because if they still have not stopped the detective, they need to stay as far as possible. And Sherlock should look for friends in other areas, for example, to meet Jack Harkness.  
Discussion according to this acquaintance started arguing in the unknown.

Sherlock hasn't disappointed, but rather filled with exceptionally high hopes, and sat down to write the next one.

***

 

John came to the apartment on Baker street and saw Sherlock enthusiastically typing on the laptop.  
— What are you doing? - he asked the other.  
Sherlock raised his shining grey eyes, blown curly eyes and said merrily:  
— I'm writing a fanfic!  
\- Really?! — did not believe John.  
\- Yes, - Sherlock kept written and put the laptop aside, - I have a favor to ask, - he said.  
— What? — alert John.  
\- Nothing, - Sherlock sheepishly dropped his eyes, a gentle glow filled the high cheekbones, — I just want you... to... me... kissed.  
\- Wait, Sherlock, - John couldn't believe his ears, - I can't hear...  
\- Kiss me, - Sherlock raised his eyes and pleadingly looked at John for a second and turned into the Cat from Shrek, - please.  
— Why? - John, painfully realizing Sherl`s that puts into this. Measurement of taste someone else's saliva? Chemical composition of salivary glands of different people? Attempt to count the number of microbes in a milligram of saliva?  
\- I understand, - Sherlock drew up his legs under him, and sat in the chair, folded his hands house and began to chew John, — I write fanfic. It's called "First kiss Sherlock". But I never really anybody did not kiss. The exception is the journalist that I Magnussen withdrew... And so, I'm in this area a complete ignoramus...  
— Why me? - John was flattered, but felt both insulted and need at the same time.  
— You're a friend, - Sherlock smiled. - my. Best. Friend. Here you are me and teach...  
\- Well... - John backed away and sat on the sofa, - and you then do not need some... uh... hugs? affection? sex?  
\- No, - Sherlock smiled again, - I don't write about sex. I write about the three of us — you, me and Mick`s. We — friends.  
\- Okay, - John stood up from the couch and walked over to Sherlock, - but I warn you, I've NEVER kissed men.  
— Well, I, too, - Sherlock raised his left eyebrow, - we are in the same position.  
\- Okay, - John took a deep breath, then exhaled, - let's start.

John Hamish Watson, a military doctor, retired, reserve in consequence of wounds, dressed in a green plaid shirt and blue jeans, was standing near the chair in the living room of the house on Baker street 221 b and looked at Sherlock.  
William Sherlock Scott Holmes — consulting detective, top private Snoop, dressed in a purple shirt, whose top two buttons were unbuttoned, which opened a wonderful view of the neck and clavicle, and black jeans, sat in the armchair and looked at John.  
\- Oh, - breathed John, - you gave me a puzzle. Don't know what to do, I don't know. Okay, - John held out his hand.  
The left and slowly stroked Sherlock's cheek. Felt the velvety skin, light stubble, brought his fingers to his chin, took hold of it and bent...  
John felt as if he was told to steal the nuclear football from the President of the United States.  
He lips touched the lips of Sherlock. Not reached to push his lips tongue, to lick the inner walls of the mouth and to swallow someone else's saliva. John just put his lips to the lips of Sherlock. A little dent, simultaneously noting that the lips that soft and they are... funny thing... surrender to it.

— It was... fine, - muttered Sherlock, when John recoiled from him, - thank you, - and licked his lips. John chose not to notice, for in this action he saw such a delightfully erotic allusion to another kiss, it was hot.

\- What's wrong? — anxiously asked Sherlock, seeing John wanders over to the couch.  
\- All... right, - he replied, - I'm... going to bed now...  
\- But... it's still early? — concerned Sherlock.  
\- I have to think, - John looked up from the couch and went to her room.  
Sherlock resentfully sighed and started to write fanfic.

***

 

Oh, got this fanfic. In the story of two thousand words found eight thousand errors, inconsistencies and outright nonsense.  
The author argued that such a kiss for a kiss can not be considered.  
\- "If we kiss" — broadcast one of the readers, - "then be so kind as to pour semen saliva half of the chair. Well... not in the ass fuck, not in the mouth cunt..."  
All the arguments Sherlock on the last call romantic nonsense, and sentenced, - "that Sherlock, too fucking impotent, as he is after this stupid kiss have to get up!"

But Sherlock's hands did not let go. He began to write the third.

***

 

Three days later, at Baker street looked Mick.  
\- Hello, - he greeted Sherlock, - what are you doing?  
— Fanfic writing, - said Sherlock, looking up from his work and smiling Mick.  
\- Wow, — glad Mick, — how's it going?  
— Amazing, - Sherlock reached out, saved written and put the laptop aside, - read want?  
— Can?  
\- Of course, - Sherlock opened his profile and gave Mick`s to enjoy his work, — what say you?

— Great, — Mick enthusiastically looked at Sherlock, - you're done! Great style, succinct content. Slightly dry language of the report, but looks fresh...  
— And they blamed me, - sad Sherlock.  
— Fuck their in the ass, - replied Mick, — do not spoil your mood. Look, you're already in selected authors from forty people. The first Fant scored eighty likes, the second forty. Great success!  
— I have a deal for you, - Sherlock perked up, realizing that Mick is on his side.  
— What?  
\- I... uh... want you to hold me...  
— For fanfic? — said Mick, surveying the fine figure of his friend, dressed all in black.  
\- Yes.  
— Then counter offer.  
— What?  
\- We... go with you in the nearest forest. Walking. Weather — grace. Marvellous warm autumn. I want to snap pictures of the colorful trees, tumbled down in armfuls of fallen leaves...  
\- And?  
— And what if you come with me, then give me a hug.

Sherlock thought. He closed the mind Palace and began to think; while Holmes thought Mick poured himself some tea and began to drink.  
\- I agree — finally announced Sherlock.  
— Well, — said Mick, — get dressed.

The day was great. The guys came home tired, happy, flushed.  
— And now — hugs! — Sherlock demanded as soon as they crossed the threshold of the living room.  
\- No problem, - said Mick, — I now take off jacket, take off my shoes, and wash. then you wash up, and then... hug.

It's finally all done. Sherlock has described their elegant walk and now longed for the promised. Mick did not disappoint, he went to the sitting friend and grabbed him by the shoulders.  
— Hmmph — breathed and buried in the curly top of Sherlock.  
— You're a miracle, - whispered Sherlock, saddled Muse and page fanfic. Posted it.  
— You look at that, - Mick muttered, staring at the monitor, - as a people, intensified. Directly piranha...  
— Nothing is sacred — sadly sighed Sherlock, - look at what you write.  
— "Your friend is a pervert!" — resented KITT, - "you fucking were in the woods. And he hasn't had you yet. And you're not raped him in there! What it CAN DO?!"  
— Give, — Mick stretched out his hands and quickly typed a response, — "in the forest walk and enjoying the marvelous views."  
— "The forest IS a GREAT fuck pad!!! There as not coming under every Bush!"  
\- "I don't see anyone. In the forest there was only I, my friend and the woods"  
\- "Fanfic — shit!"  
— "Do not read..."

— Well, you see, - Sherlock was upset.  
— Can offer you the following — Mick walked around the chair and stood in front of you, - look at me and listen.

Sherlock looked at Mick`s, he was also in black... and he was smiling.  
— Let's write together the coolest fanfic, - Mick reached out with her right hand to face Sherlock and wiped the tears from dismal gray eyes of his friend, - will get them all. Agree?  
\- A good idea, - said Sherlock, - you'll help me? — put the laptop and he hugged the other, hid her face on his chest.  
\- Of course, - Mick grabbed the black-haired head, - everything will be fine. They are all on the cords from the headphones hang himself. Even a co-author Ben take another person. He will provide us the equipment.  
\- As you wish, - murmured Sherlock.  
— Well, okay, - Mick gently freed from the hands of Sherlock, - I'll come find you and favorites will shove. With your idea, and I supply everything else.  
— I love you so much, Mick, — happily breathed Sherlock.  
— There's your title, - grinned Mick, and went home.

And Sherlock went on to consider the fourth fanfic.


End file.
